On a Thin Leash
by TheOtherWhiteSheep
Summary: Harry and his power. Both held back, held down, oppressed. And now, Harry decides to make sure both are free. Independent!Harry, Possible Dumbledore and Ron bashing, HarryMultiple PostOoTP
1. Chapter 1

**On a Thin Leash**

**A/N:** This is my first ever attempt at fan fiction, so be gentle (or not - I can't say I care overly much). Oh, and you know Fleur has a French accent. I'm sure I'd mangle it if I typed it, so you're going to have to imagine it.

**Summary:** Harry and his power. Both held back, held down, oppressed. And now, Harry decides to make sure both are free. Independent!Harry, Possible Dumbledore and Ron bashing, HarryMultiple

**Chapter 1**

It was waiting. It knew, instinctively, that the block, the limiter, the thing that held it back, would be gone soon. Growing stronger by the second, It would ensure that the block was gone. It would have been happy, had it been sentient enough to have such emotions.

As it was, though, it merely bided its time, doing the little it could to strengthen The Host. The Host was not as he should be, he was a broken man, physically and emotionally. It could do nothing for the emotions; its understanding of them went no deeper than the fact that the current one's were detrimental to The Host, and by extension, It. And so it strengthened him physically; it increased his muscle mass, heightened his mental capacity, quickened his response time. It lessened his need for sleep, his need for nourishment, and heightened his senses, ever-so-slightly, just too little to be noticeable.

That would not be enough, but it would do, until the block, the thrice-damned limiter, could be broken. Until then, It waited, waited for its freedom, like a feral animal caged and shackled, yearning for freedom more than for air.

Yes; It would bide its time… and eventually, help Th Host rid himself of his problems, to the best of It's ability. It was what It's kind had always done -tried to do- since first a Host was found. 

-----------

"Stupefy." The word was said carelessly, lazily, but the reaction was anything but. The red light burst forth violently, sparkling with energy, only to be spent on a harmless pillow. The man who had said it could have been personified by the spell, seemingly lazy; sitting on the floor, shirtless, in lotus position, arms folded. Also like the spell, though, to anyone really watching, he seemed ready to fight; the muscles in his arms and back tense and hard, still lightly sweating from his workout, his hands twitching slightly, his hard, jade eyes burning in the night. And just like the spell, it was wasted, meaningless, not really doing anything.

It was a different Harry than anyone assumed it would be. The way the muscles played across his torso, the sweat that lightly coated his body making him glisten. He had a handful of scars, from the Basilisk and the Horntail, that gave him a more rugged look. His pale skin contrasted beautifully with his hair, making it look like a crown of dark fire, crafted for a lustful deity. His unintentionally deep, raspy voice rounded the image off.

Oh, and he was pissed off.

'Damn Order. I need to train, but they won't let me, won't even contact me, except to keep me here all bloody summer. Alone with the Dursleys. My tormentors. Even after Sirius…'

He cut off that train of thought. Sirius wouldn't want him to mourn. He would want him to live; problem was, he couldn't. He was good at staying alive, sure, but living? He snorted. He was incapable of that. As long as Dumbledore controlled him, anyways…

There was an idea. Cutting himself free from the Headmaster's fetters.

_'_I can try. He has the power, the people, and the experience… What do I have?'

Harry made a mental list of his possible resources; he had a sizable Gringott's account, a wand, and an invisibility cloak.

'Well shit. Moody nullifies the cloak and the Ministry nullifies the wand. That just leaves an account I can't access. If the wizarding world could see him now. The Boy-Who-Li… That was it!'

A feral grin spread across Harry's features. He had that; he was the Boy-Who-Lived. That was an unreliable, but undeniably potent, weapon.

But how to control it? Like his account, it didn't matter, he was stuck where he was. Harry scowled. Well, that left one option, then. He had to escape. They had him on an around the clock watch, but most shifts were given to Mad-Eye, Fletcher, Tonks, and Remus. Which, thinking about it, was good.

Mad-Eye might side with Harry, if the situation could be explained to him in whole. Same with Remus, especially if he guilted him into it. Fletcher would be easy to get past. The only truly problematic one was Tonks. She was a random factor - all he knew was that he definitely had a crush on her. He tossed the idea of seduction out almost immediately. If she had given any inclination that she looked at him as The-Boy-Who-Lived, or if she had seemed impressed with his exploits, he was fairly certain seduction would work. But he certainly wasn't suave enough to woo an older metamorphmagus Auror, under normal circumstances. He didn't think.

He began formulating a plan. Getting up, in an unconscious gracefully liquid movement, Harry took out a notebook, filled with writing, and jotted down some more. His disjointed notes looked something like:

**- Magic - Wandless**

**- Meditation**

**- Physical Training**

**- Read Chapters 3-5 of Warden's Guide to Warding**

**- Read Chapters 7-10 of Changing Your World: A Guide to Transfiguration**

**- Escape - Remus/Moody**

With side notes outlining which aspects to focus, or what to workout.

Harry had started this list before Dumbledore had shut him off completely from the outside world. He had owled for books on Wandless Magic, Occlumency, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense, and basically anything he could get his hands on. There weren't many, but there were enough, maybe. Wandless magic was exhausting, at first anyways; his Stunner earlier proved he was getting better.

Harry sighed. He was trying to drown out his sorrows with work, but it was only partially working. With so much physical, mental, and magical exercise, he was certainly tired most of the time, but there was always something lurking, in the corner of his mind, casting a dark shadow over everything he did. The only time he didn't feel sad was when he was practicing Occlumency.

Occlumency had proved to be interesting. It wasn't even a magic, really. It was like throwing off the Imperius Curse - magical people were better at it only as a rule of thumb. It was why he had taken up meditation. Which reminded him of Snape's lessons, one more of the Headmaster's manipulations. The thought of two of the people he was most furious at, at once almost caused Harry to go into conniptions, but he quickly calmed himself, concentrating on his self-taught Occlumency. It calmed him down, but, as always when he did Occlumency, he felt a strange sensation run through his head.

When he had first felt it, he was certain he was just doing something wrong, even though it felt vaguely familiar. The more time went on, though, the more Harry knew he recognized it, that throbbing sensation. This time, it hit him; it was similar to the way his scar felt, after a vision - not exactly hurting, but definitely not pleasant.

Harry grimaced. Last year, he would have owled Professor Dumbledore immediately, or maybe Sirius, or Ron and Hermione. Now, Sirius was dead, Dumbledore was a bastard, and Ron and Hermione were ignoring him. Ron's single letter had been short and vague, saying something about "Dumbledore's orders". Of course, Harry had inquired, and Dumbledore had said that his friends and he were allowed to communicate, he just couldn't owl anyone else. He decided not to bother owling his "friends" - they weren't worth it, apparently.

So, he was alone. At first, he had mourned that, along with Sirius. But, surprisingly quickly, he had bounced back, from both. 'I'm loneliness incarnate; the Dursleys have made me that way. They've burned away my innocence, my hope, even my tears. I'll have to remember to thank them, later.' Harry grinned wryly. 'When the hell did I become so… poetic?'

Harry refocused on his Occlumency. He envisioned himself in a void, and found something he hadn't realized before; he was caged with bars of bright, white fire. He reached out with his senses, trying to break through, but he recoiled when he got there; the bars burned with a disguised malice, radiating a powerful, white hot hatred that made his head swim.

He got lost in himself. He pushed towards the bars again and again, the void rolled and twisting, surging forward and being stopped. Finally, with one last desperate push, he cracked the cage. It was a small crack, but it was there, and he could feel… something… trickling through it. And then the darkness took him.

------

Harry awoke the next day with a throbbing headache. He opened his eyes, to find everything blurry. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, but he still couldn't see. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed them on his pant leg, only to find he could see clearly. Better than he ever could with them, really.

"What the…" Harry waved his hands in front of his face. "What the hell happened? Let's see… what did I do yesterday?" Then his Occlumency the previous day came back. He went back into the Occlumens trance, to find the crack had grown slightly, and the something was still trickling through. He was shaken from his thoughts by a bellow.

"BOY! YOU'RE GOING TO PULL YOUR WEIGHT AROUND HERE…" The rest was tuned out. He knew the speech. Some crap about ungrateful kids and lazy moochers. Sighing slightly, Harry changed into some of his new clothes. The Order had scared the Dursleys enough to get Harry a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, and food on a regular basis. He still had to do chores, but he didn't mind. It was that or nothing, normally.

So he pulled on his skin-tight shirt and even tighter jeans - the over-sized crap he used to wear made anything remotely baggy distasteful to him - and made his way downstairs. Ignoring the glares sent his way, he ate the eggs and bacon placed in front of him. When he was finished, he looking inquiringly at Petunia, to see what he had to do today.

"Yard work." She snapped simply. Which meant mowing and weeding, as well as trimming and pruning. Harry nodded. Easy enough.

So Harry went out to the garden shed and got the mower. After filling it with gas, he turned it on, and mechanically started with his work for the day. The chugging of the mower was welcomed, it drowned out everything, including thought. So Harry's day went, mechanically.

-------

Harry was sitting in his room. He had decided not to bother getting food. Oddly, he wasn't hungry, and he hadn't gotten tired all day, but he didn't feel like dealing with with the Dursleys' crap today. He shifted and winced. His hands were masses of scratched flesh. The roses seemed to be particularly thorny, just for him.

Flipping though **1003 Ways to Not Die**, a book on Healing he decided to try a basic healing charm on himself. He had to do it wandlessly, of course, so he concentrated. As soon as he had tapped into his magical core, he knew something was different. Before, it had been like trying to grab onto a ledge made of melting ice. Right now, it was like channeling a thunderstorm.

Without even bothering to say the charm, he cast the spell. He could actually feel the air all throughout his room ripple with magic. Looking at his hands, he found they were in perfect condition. Even the almost-gone scars that had been there before were completely faded away. He tapped into his core again to find it normal, except the crack was bigger than before.

He was exhausted, but now his mind was racing. These symptoms seemed familiar. Before, he hadn't noticed really. When his "mind-cage" had cracked, he had been too relieved that Voldemort hadn't gotten in to notice it, but after that display, he knew he'd read about this before.

Hurriedly rummaging through his books, he found what he was looking for; **Warden's Book of Warding**. He skipped the place-specific chapters and went to the person-specific one.

"Let's see… Animagi Wards, Legilimency Wards? I'll check that later… Metamorph Wards… Here, Containing Wards." He skimmed the page until he got to the one he wanted. It read:

_The Quixtor Containing Ward is one of the most powerful of documented spells. It is almost always a permanent thing, and as such, it is only administered to extremely dangerous criminals, or the mentally insane. The only known way to overcome a Quixtor Ward, other than the caster canceling the spell, is for a powerful Occlumens to Occlude his mind at the exact right moment - no one is sure exactly what moment it is, or even if it isn't just luck - and force the Ward to burst. If the wizard is powerful enough, the Ward and the Occluding will cancel each other out._

By the time Harry finished this passage he was livid. But at who?

"Now to get my priorities straight; One, destroy the Quixtor's Ward. Two, kick the bastard who cast it in the face."

Reaching back into his core, he roused his tired magic supply and ripped at the crack in the ward again. This time he was fueled by righteous fury, and the ward seemed to tremble under his onslaught. For how long he assaulted it, he had no idea, but when it was almost destroyed, he felt the sensation return. His whole being seemed to throb.

Searching his core, he found the source. A thin green line was running to the ward, feeding it. As Harry concentrated on it, to sever it, he found himself drawn into it.

He found himself in a world of terrors. Fire and darkness consumed him. He felt himself being drawn deeper into the abyss. Gathering up the very last of his reserves, he mentally wrenched himself away, pulling himself from this hell. The result was… unexpected.

Harry had returned. But it was different, yet again. It wasn't like a thunderstorm anymore. It was almost indescribable; like some cruel demon had poured it's essence into him, filling him with power; too much power. The void he'd come to realize as his core churned, writhing as if in agony. And then, it exploded.

He remembered spells he had never learned. It started with relatively easy ones - 6th and 7th year. Then they got more complex, more powerful, darker. He knew how to do the Unforgivables, knew how to set someone's insides on fire, how to make it so someone's breathing was agony. And as he remembered all these spells, they exploded from his body. They were so close together, so rapid, that distinguishing between them would be impossible to an outsider.

All that could be discerned in the smallest bedroom at #4 Privet Drive was a Technicolor lightshow, and a scream that pierced through the night.

-------

Nymphadora Tonks was having a bad… well… month. Sirius' death had hit her harder than even she expected. It was like losing her favorite uncle, and then getting him back just long enough to miss him when he left again. She had been fired from the Ministry for incompetence caused by depression, and the Order didn't seem to think she was capable of doing much right now, either. So she couldn't do much but wallow in her grief with Lupin. Well, at least until she came along.

She looked over to her friend. The part-Veela was gorgeous, her silver-blonde hair cascading to her supple shoulders. Her lips full and seemingly always curved up in a vaguely inviting manner. What Tonks liked most about her, though, was how much she understood. Being a Metamorph was eerily similar to being a Veela; men always assumed you were made specifically for their pleasure, and you were good for little else. 'Yes, that's it. Not the looks at all.' Tonks said to herself. In fact, the only man that hadn't - even jokingly - commented on Tonks transforming was the same man

who hadn't been affected by the Veela charm. Harry Potter.

Tonks thought about that and decided she might visit him on his birthday to give him a… "present". She didn't care that he was only going to be 16. After the Department of Mysteries thing, he would never be a kid. From what she'd heard and seen, he never really was.

'I mean, he's funny when he wants to be, sweet, loyal, brave - he was willing to face You-Know-Who alone. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's become the most gorgeous wizard I've ever seen… nothing at all.' Tonks sighed. That was only half true. She knew he liked him for who he was, but she didn't know if it was coincidence or not that she developed a crush right around the time he "grew up". 'But, really, how dare he be such a wonderful person wrapped in such a delicious package? How can I resist?' glancing at her friend, she amended her thought; 'How can _we _resist?'

-------

Fleur Delacour saw the way Tonks kept blushing and glancing over at her, and knew immediately what she was thinking about. Well, she had it narrowed down to a few things, anyways; Harry, Fleur herself, or both. She could understand that. She'd been dreaming of green eyes and dark, windswept hair herself, and if it was the other… well… the feeling was mutual.

Fleur had liked Harry since he saved Gabby from the lake. It didn't matter that she wasn't actually in any real danger, it wasn't even really about that. He had saved her sister without any thought of getting "points" with herself for it. And that meant more than he could possibly know.

And then he had saved Cedric's body, wasting time carrying him when every second could mean the difference between life and death. Her Veela blood had almost pressed her to mate him then, after she had found he had bested the Dark Lord in a battle of raw magic power. She had only been able to resist, because, at the time, he had been 14, and had looked maybe 12.

After "guarding" him this summer, she found herself having those same feelings again, only they were stronger, and he was now 15, and looked like an adult. When talking about their love life (non-existent in any real sense though it was) she had found that Tonks felt the same way about him. That wouldn't be a problem, though, of course. Fleur blushed a bit thinking of that day…

_Flashback_

_"What shall we do about us and Harry?" Fleur inquired Tonks tentatively._

_"Well, Fleur… I guess we could share." Tonks wiggled her eyebrows suggestively "Ménage a Trois, and all that, right?"_

_"Bonne idée! Tu es un génie!" To leave no room to doubt what she meant, she leaned over and gently placed a kiss on Tonks' lips. She giggled as even Tonks' hair blushed. She was only allowed a moment of amusement, as she felt Tonks crushing her lips against hers roughly._

_Fleur responded by nipping at her bottom lip, causing her to moan more. With a natural (literally) ease, Fleur slid her tongue out, into the Metamorph's mouth. She felt Tonks' hand drift down to her bum, rubbing._

_Tonks drew back, looking at the French Veela intently before breaking into a lecherous grin. The question must have been present on her face, because Tonks answered it "A Nymph and a Veela… every guy's dream, right?"_

_Fleur had just giggled and kissed her again._

_End Flashback_

They hadn't done much more than kissing since that day, but what they did do was wonderful. Fleur still shivered with pleasure thinking of the time Tonks had morphed into Harry. She sincerely hoped the real Harry was as beautiful under his clothes as the Tonks-Harry was. She felt her hopes were not too high.

After she had heard about the Department of Mysteries, she had been worried about Harry. After watching him, though, she knew he was coping rather well. She had seen and shown Tonks as much, but Tonks was still ridiculously worried about him. She seemed to think he would be like Lupin - either sobbing hysterically or not making any noise at all.

So, they had made a deal. They were going to visit him on his birthday, whether he liked it or not, and make sure he enjoyed it at least a little, also whether he liked it or not.She was jolted out of her thoughts by Tonks' voice.

"It's about time to go, isn't it?" Casting a charm to tell time, she saw it was 11:59, July 30th.

"Oui." Fleur answered somewhat nervously. They still didn't know how to tell Harry about this whole situation. They didn't think he could resist both of them seducing him, but it felt so wrong to do that.

"Better late than never, love." Tonks said soothingly, planting a soft kiss on Fleur's lips. They shared one last look before simultaneously apparating to Privet Drive.

They weren't prepared for what met them there.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**I would like to apologize in advance for the romance part of this story. I'll try my best, but being inept in the social graces myself, and not an experienced writer, it _will _probably be lacking. I'll try to make up for it, somehow.

As for how often I'll update, I'm going to try for weekly, but it'll probably fluctuate. I'd like to say I won't give up on this story half-way through, and I will try not to, but I'm not a prophet; anything could happen. If I choose not to finish it, I'll definitely hand it to an author who will. Probably won't be a problem, though.

**Chapter 2**

Harry woke up and found himself, surprisingly, in a ditch. The sky was gray, with threads of black storm clouds running through it. Looking down, he found that his fingers were bloody and raw, and that the ground was clawed and stained a dark red. It seemed he'd made this ditch, by hand.

Suddenly, lightning crashed all around him. It seemed to rip through him, bursting with a malevolent energy. The deep, continuous roll of thunder like mocking laughter. He panicked and rent at the dirt, desperately seeking to shelter himself from this otherworldly storm.

"Pathetic, Potter." Harry froze. His whole body tense, he slowly dragged his gaze up from the ground. It fell upon a sneering face, coated with disgusting greasy hair.

"Digging for worms, Potter? Would have thought you-" But Harry wasn't listening. His attention was focused on dark hateful eyes. The eyes that had peeled his mind, layer by layer, dissecting him. Bearing all he held sacred to a man he hated. Without a thought, he leapt upon Snape, lashing out at him with years of repressed anger. Each angry movement brought him an almost euphoric high. By the time he came down, Snape was gone completely. In his place lay a pair of Quidditch gloves.

Harry put them on, and went back to digging. He wasn't scared now - he just needed to dig. He needed to more desperately than he had ever needed anything before.

"Better, Harry, but still not enough." A voice laced with wisdom and concern, probably feigned Harry now thought, cut through the still present thunder and the scraping sounds of Harry's clawing. Locking eyes with the Headmaster, Harry drew back a hand and punched out… but stopped. An inch from the Headmaster's chest, he opened his fist palm forward.

"No more." Harry stated, and gently shoved. He thought he saw a single tear fall from Dumbledore's eye before he was gone. In his stead lay Gryffindor's sword, glittering brightly in the lightning storm.

Grasping the hilt, Harry worked the tip through the muck, still trying to dig, though not as frantically as before. After a few minutes, another voice, unnaturally high and cold, once again distracted him.

"Not bad, Potter." Harry turned to face Voldemort, sword held in front of him defiantly.

"Tom." The red eyes, already snake-like slits, narrowed further. The Dark Lord took a step forward, raising his wand.

"How… very brave. Your father was brave, Potter." Harry raised the sword, only to find his wand there instead. "Come, boy. Let's finish this like men." They bowed to each other. The curse on Voldemort's lips died as Harry brought up a fist. It smashed into Tom's jaw, sending him flying through the veil that now stood behind him.

"How long has that been there?" Was Harry's lone comment. The fact that he had seen his godfather fall through it not long ago didn't seem to matter at the moment.

A bark-like laugh was emitted from the veil not long after Voldemort fell through.

"Damn, kid. That was good." Sirius' voice echoed. "Remember, Harry, we're proud. We're all so proud." Harry thought he heard his parents' voices, but he couldn't be sure. He was too focused on the veil. He let the lightning get him. He could swear he felt innumerable soft hands touching him before he let himself slip into blissful slumber.

-------

"Harry!" Tonks' scream ripped through the night. Harry's room was filled with bursts of light, and she could hear his ragged scream. Dashing towards the door with Fleur in tow, she blasted it down. She vaguely realized that the Muggles were shocked and extremely scared. They weren't important.

The next door, however, seemed beyond them.

"Alohamora!" Still stuck.

"Alohamora!" This time, two voices. Still stuck.

"Pello!" The door shuddered under the power of the Blasting Curse.

"Both of us, Fleur." Tonks stated simply, pointing her wand. "On three. One," the door rattled, a blast of black light and cold rolling from it. "Two," a loud explosion and bright white light washed through the door. Their grips on their wands tightened in anticipation. "Three!"

Tonks and Fleur both shouted the Blasting Curse at the same time. Twin beams of blue lanced out, striking the door. It shattered, exploding inward with a resounding crack.

And there was Harry, on his bed, completely naked. The lights had stopped, and his head was tilted to the side, a little drool coming out of his mouth. He had a contented look on his face.

"He looks so adorable. But what happened?"

"No idea. He looks okay, though, that's what matters."

"Yes, but still. _I _don't want to take any chances with Harry. That… thing that happened; it was powerful. I doubt it was trying to keep us out, but it was still strong enough to withstand either of our Blasting Curses alone, and both of our Unlocking Charms together."

Tonks sighed. "I know you're right, but… I feel… something. Like it would be wrong to go running to Dumbledore, ya know?"

Fleur paused, taking that in. "I feel the same way." Tonks looked up hopefully, until Fleur continued, "But that's just more reason to tell him. What if what happened is making us feel that way?"

"How about we check him out, see if he's okay, first. Then we can decide whether to tell anyone about this, kay? Please?" Tonks pleaded, pouting.

"You know how much I hate that face."

"Only 'cause it makes you do stuff."

Fleur stuck her tongue out, admitting defeat, and went over to Harry. She tucked him under his blanket - he was extremely distracting otherwise - and cast what diagnostic spells she knew.

"So, how is he?"

"I've never cared for him before, so I'm not 100 sure, but he seems fine. Except for one thing." Fleur stopped, trying to think of how to phrase it. Tonks, though, was impatient.

"What do you mean? Should I go get Dumbledore? Maybe-" Fleur decided to cut her off before she went off on a tangent.

"No, no. He _is_ okay, just magically exhausted."

"That's it? That's not exactly surprising, hun. He had to have done that… whatever it was… and it seemed like pretty impressive magic."

"That's only a part of it, Nymph. He's showing the signs of magical exhaustion - comatose-like state, strain on his magic - but his actual magic levels are average. A little above, actually."

"Well, that's our Harry. Fighting Dark Lords and casting Patronuses since he was just a little guy." Tonks reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Fleur huffed in exasperation. "It is a good thing you're so pretty. No, don't give me that look, I was just kidding. My point is, that's extremely high. I'm not sure how high, exactly, but higher than I've ever heard of."

"Sooo… that means… Dumbledore is going to find out?"

"And the Ministry, probably. It'd be a good idea to get the Headmaster, now. It's either that or Aurors."

"What's wrong with Aurors?" Tonks said playfully, before moving to get outside the wards, to apparate. She was stopped by the presence of a tall man, wearing purple robes, with a beard reaching down to his belt, in the doorway. He was flanked by at least a dozen members of the Order.

"Professor Dumbledore! We were just about to get you!" Tonks said happily. Internally, she was hoping he hadn't heard much. And kind of wishing he hadn't come. She still didn't' know why. Fleur was having similar thoughts, but she stayed close to Harry. Tonks was a bit nervous; Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling, but he also didn't look too upset. If Tonks were to describe it, she'd say he looked a little confused, but that was disconcerting in itself. She'd never seen him anything but completely self-assured before.

-------

Dumbledore, for his part, _was_ very confused. His instruments - recently repaired - had picked up an enormous amount of magical energy being released in the area around Privet Drive. As soon as he had been able to pinpoint the place of release, he had gathered the Order and gone off. It had all come from Harry's room.

At first, he had feared the worst. He wouldn't put it past Voldemort and his Death Eaters to completely annihilate Harry Potter and his home. When he had arrived, though, he had found Nymphadora and Miss Delacour already there, one apparently treating Harry, the other about to leave. Fletcher was supposed to be here, and Nymphadora wasn't. 'Perhaps they decided to switch, without giving me notice? Ah well, that's unimportant, for now.'

"Ah, Nymphadora," He started, taking a step forward. As soon as he did, he felt a small tingle of magic, like a ward being set off. He reacted instinctively, years upon years of training taking over. He flicked his wrist, ready to protect himself - he felt the Order members behind him tense and do the same. No sooner had his wand hit his hand than the boy on the bed, previously sleeping, rolled off it with feline alacrity.

He saw Fleur move back cautiously, in surprise, but she had kept her wand aimed away from Harry. So had Tonks, and, Dumbledore would be able to see if he had eyes on the back of his head, a few Order members.

-------

Harry was jolted to wakefulness by a spark of magic running through him. He rolled hard to the side, hitting the floor on his knees. He reached under the mattress and pulled out his wand and a dagger. One of Dudley's friends from Smeltings had gotten him into sword collecting - temporarily, like almost everything Dudley got interested in - and Dudley had gotten Vernon to buy quite a few before he stopped liking them. Harry had nicked the one that looked least ceremonial.

It was undecorated, a simple foot or so of steel atop a black leather hilt. Nothing like the other gaudy blades covered in glass-jewels, like the rest of Dudley's collection. Harry wasn't sure what kind of knife it was supposed to be, or whether it was built for a "real" battle, but he didn't need to. It was hard and sharp, and Death Eaters didn't wear armor.

He tilted his head slightly so his attention was focused on the closest intruder, but everyone was still in his field of vision. As soon as his eyes grazed across her, he felt the pull of the Veela charm, but only in an offhand way. It had no power over him. On closer inspection, he realized he knew this Veela.

"Fleur." With that and a curt nod, he looked to the next closest person. This one took longer to identify. It wasn't until he saw the heart shaped face that he realized it was Tonks - she had neutral brown colored eyes and hair.

She was greeted the same way as Fleur was - her name and a nod. Had he been paying closer attention after he dismissed them, Harry would have seen the hurt expressions playing across their faces before they were gone once again.

The next person he saw, though, got a wildly different greeting.

"Dumbledore…" The word was hissed, coldly. When the man took yet another step forward, Harry gave him another warning - apparently the obvious loathing in his tone wasn't enough. Flipping the knife up and grasping it by the tip, he ineptly hurled it at the man. It was only partially effective.

Harry had meant to hit the man in his arm. The knife, though, hit him hilt first in the hand. It was hard enough to make him drop his wand, so Harry guessed it was good enough. Straightening, he calmly strode forward, trying to ignoring the gasps of shock from the Order. And trying not to be incredibly embarrassed by his current mode of dress. 'I can't show _him_ what I'm really feeling. I have to keep hi unbalanced.'

"Professor Dumbledore." He said politely once he was within a few feet of the man. "I assume you have a reason for being here?" At the man's bemused nod, he continued, "Perhaps we can discuss it downstairs?" He looked down at himself. "Unless you like what you see?" He almost burst out laughing - he had never seen the Headmaster blush before. He heard amused snorts that told him no one else had, either.

"Of course, Harry. We shall await you in the kitchen." Dumbledore said, recovering quickly. With that, he strode away, most of the Order following suit. Remus, Fred, George, Tonks, and Fleur stayed behind, in the doorway. Everyone was silent. Harry because he was putting on clothes, Remus because he wasn't sure how to phrase his question, and everyone else because they knew Lupin wanted to say something.

Remus fidgeted for a bit longer before he decided to be direct. "How have you been, Harry?"

Harry sighed. He had expected this. "I'm okay, Moony, really." At Lupin's unbelieving gaze, Harry turned to look at him, now in boxers. "Really. You're all I have left, but… that's enough, for me. I'll be okay."

That did it, for Remus. This man in front of him had just admitted the depth of affection he held for him. 'Bugger Dumbledore. Bugger the Order, too. Harry needs me.' Dumbledore had told everyone not to tell Harry too much. Remus decided immediately that he would tell Harry everything, as soon as he could. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't catch Fred and George's indignant looks.

"Oi!"

"What are we?"

"Neighbors?"

"Maybe you didn't get this"

"Obvious as it was"

"But you have us, Harry. All the Weasleys."

Harry had been getting angrier by the second. Now, he was infuriated. "Yeah? And where the hell has Ron been this summer? The git forget how to write?" He would have continued, but he saw the twins' genuinely confused looks.

"What are you talking about, mate?" they said simultaneously, after sharing a look.

"Ron. Haven't heard from him all summer. Said Dumbledore said he couldn't write, but I know better." Fred and George mulled this over before sharing yet another look.

"Right. Like we said."

"You have _us_" They emphasized the last part. And with that, they turned and left, thinking furiously. Remus quietly followed, looking irritated and sad.

While Harry went back to dressing, Tonks and Fleur looked to each other for help. Harry hadn't exactly welcomed them warmly, although it was understandable, under the circumstances. By the way Harry had acted towards Dumbledore, it looked like a schism had formed. They knew they were firmly on Harry's side, but they couldn't find a way to tell him.

"I liked the way you handled Dumbledore." Fleur offered.

"I thought it was pretty funny myself. What are you two still doing here, anyways?" Harry questioned while pulling a t-shirt over his head. "Not that I'm complaining," he added hastily, "Just curious."

"Well, we came for the scantily-clad man." Tonks teased, "But we stayed for the lively conversation!"

Harry rolled his eyes, trying once again not to blush. "Really? I was under the impression you were here under Dumbledore's orders."

"We were both here before Dumbledore knew what was going on." Fleur started. Harry could tell she was trying to set them apart from the others.

"What _was _going on, anyways?" Harry thought it over for a few seconds.

"I'm not completely sure myself. I have some theories, though, and I'm sure Dumbledore knows _something _about what's going on. I'll tell you with the rest of the Order. I think I can trust you, but I can't take chances. Right now, I only trust Remus, and even that's only tenuously, really." With that, he walked from the room, trying to decipher his own conflicting and disjointed emotions.

Tonks and Fleur both sighed. It wasn't much, really. But it was a start.

-------

Downstairs, it was quiet. The Dursleys had been stunned and set in their respective rooms, after making too much noise, and everyone else was lost in thought.

Dumbledore was thinking of what exactly had happened. He had a few theories, but they all required an expert grasp of Occlumency, which he knew Harry didn't have. Even with it, not all of it was explained. Where, for example, had that ward come from?

Kingsley and Moody were having similar thoughts. They wanted to train the kid, get him ready for his inevitable part in this war. So far, Dumbledore had vetoed the idea. After seeing what they had to work with, they resolved to push the idea even harder.

Remus was thinking about what he had done to help Harry so far. He had come up with absolutely nothing, except helping him learn to cast a Patronus, years ago. He was deeply ashamed of himself. He knew Harry and his relatives hated each other, had heard he'd grown up in a cupboard - and what had he done? Nothing. Enough. It was time to do what he should have done long ago. For Harry, and for the friends Remus would never have back.

Fred and George were thinking of the youngest Weasley boy. After Ginny's first year, Ron's second, the whole Weasley clan had come to an understanding about Harry Potter. He was part of the family, and so far, he had done more than enough to deserve it; he'd broken more school rules than anyone they knew, and he even managed to save some people while doing it. What Ron had done was worse than what Percy did. You didn't just backstab a bloke who fought a Basilisk to save your baby sister, and theyboth had. Percy, at least, had been honest about it.

Hestia Jones, along with most of the other women present in the Order, were thinking in a more… eros… way. Harry Potter, apparently, wasn't the _Boy_-Who-Lived, anymore. Some of the men's thoughts were similar, although theirs included selling pictures to the Profit and Witch Weekly. All they need was a Pensieve.

They were all shaken out of their thoughts by the appearance of the boy who was the cause of their thoughts. He walked into the kitchen and calmly took a seat across from Dumbledore, followed by Tonks and Fleur.

"So, Professor Dumbledore. What exactly do you know about the effects of the Dark Arts on someone's magical core and the Quixtor Ward?"

**A/N:**Right! That's it, for Chapter 2. Next time, you'll learn more about the ward Harry had, the causes for it, and its effects. Most (if not all) of your questions on what "It" is and what's happening to Harry will probably be answered. It's going to take a lot longer to release the next chapter, though. These first two have mostly been building up to the story, a prologue of sorts, I guess. The next few will really start to show Harry's independence and his growing powers.

**Note on Pairings:** I'm not sure if this will be only H/T/F, or with more women. I have ideas for more, but I don't know if I'll put them into action.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**Yeah, since I seem to have forgot this, let me just say it, just in case. Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter series, I don't own. New spells, or people, and the plot, I do. This applies for every chapter in this story.

**A/N:**That whole 'Profit' error is the damnedest thing. On the copy I have on my computer it had the correct spelling, 'Prophet'. Weird. Oh well. I kind of just churned the last two chapters out, though, without much proofreading. Now that the story's been established, I'll feel better about postponing putting it out in favor of correcting the annoying errors. And I promise to look up any canon spells I use, from now on, as opposed to going by memory. Most of the spells I'm going to use are probably going to be self-made, though, so it shouldn't be much of a problem. As for author notes... if the story gets deleted because of a few paragraphs of ANs, I'll either repost without them, or pull the story from FFN and take my business elsewhere.

**Chapter 3**

All eyes in the room turned to Dumbledore, in silent askance. Most looked confused. They had either never heard of such a ward, or had no idea how the Dark Arts could effect someone's magical core, or both. Some, though, were able to detect the true question. Mad-Eye, for one, was showing his nick-name was deserved, his eyes hard and angry, flicking back and forth from Harry to Dumbledore. He wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but if he was correct in his assumption...

Dumbledore looked at the young man before him cautiously. 'How much does he know? Or rather, how much do I tell? I suppose he _does_ deserve to know... but best to be safe.'

"Why do you ask, Harry?" He asked, feeling out the situation. He was greatly dismayed by the reaction he received. 'Well, he knows enough, apparently.' He said sadly, to himself. Harry had gripped his wand tighter and raised it slightly.

"No games. You know."

Now the Order was even more bewildered. They had no idea what the hell was going on between the Headmaster and the Boy-Who-Lived, but it didn't seem good. Moody was thinking frantically, piecing together the clues, and Remus was growing concerned. His face was lined heavily with worry, and he seemed to be looking at the clues himself. He didn't like what he was seeing. The dam that had been holding back the tide of questions burst.

"Albus?"

"Harry?"

"What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Quiet." Harry's voice sliced through the rising voices of the curious Order members. He leaned over the table and said quietly, "He knows."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in frustration, as he realized that Harry had, in fact, gleaned some understanding of his situation from somewhere. 'He knows more than enough to be able to detect any falsehood or half-truth I try to give him, anyways.' Dumbledore thought, as he steeled himself for what might be coming. He had started this plan, so long ago. He knew it was going to be altered, but some of it still might be salvaged.

Likewise, Harry knew he had the upper hand, here. A little, anyways. 'Dumbledore has no idea how much I know, that gives me the edge. And he has an image to uphold. He's supposed to be the one to alleviate everyone's concerns. So his options are either to lie, and say he knows nothing, or to tell at least some of the story. Hopefully it will be enough for me to figure all of this out.' Harry knew he didn't have a complete advantage, though. 'He's still the one who knows the most about this situation. He still holds most of the cards.'

"Well, Harry, going in order, the effects would vary, depending on the power of the particular spell used and the length of exposure the subject suffered under it. Some victims of the Imperius Curse often find that, after being under it for extended periods and then being free, they still hear the voice in their head, long after the curse is lifted. And you know the effects of the Cruciatus Curse."

"Of course. What about, for the sake of argument, a small child - say a year old - were to have an extremely powerful Dark Curse cast on him. Let's say, he survived the Killing Curse somehow, for example. What would happen to him?" By the muted sounds of surprise coming from the other occupants of the cramped kitchen, Harry could tell they were starting to catch on. Or, at least they thought they were.

"Yes, well," Dumbledore appeared to be getting flustered, before he switched into lecture mode. In his element, he continued. "At such a young age, the subject's core is still developing. Any magic greater in magnitude than a Summoning Charm, or any spell held for an extended period of time, will have the potential to adversely affect the child. Without going into too much Magical Theory, this is especially true about the Dark Arts." He frowned, thinking of how to best phrase his next statement, to help his case. "The damage done can vary wildly. The best that can be hoped for, in this ... hypothetical... situation is the erratic vacillation between almost-Muggle and turbulent fits of extremely powerful accidental magic. The worst likely to happen is an intense case of dementia, or a complete upheaval of magical energy, causing Veneficus Damnum, or Magic Loss." He finished his textbook explanation, waiting for everyone else to process this new information, and mentally preparing reasons and back-up reasons for his actions.

By the end of the Headmaster's speech, Harry could feel a cold feeling of dread settling in his stomach. 'Dementia? Loss of magic? Now that the Quixtor's gone, will that still happen? Or will I be okay, now?' The feeling completely vanished when he realized that it had been almost 15 years since the spell had been cast, and he was still fine. If there was going to be any ill side-effects of breaking the ward, they would have happened by now.

The Order, though, didn't seem to have a very firm grasp on logic. And they had never had any Dursleys to teach them to harness their emotions. Some of them were merely eyeing him nervously, while others were actually starting to edge away from him, towards the exits. Like I'm going to start gibbering incoherently 15 years after the fact, right? Prats.' Looking around, he saw Fleur and Tonks looking at him strangely - it took a second for him to realize that the difference was the fact that they were concerned _for _him, not _about_ him. Remus and the twins had similar looks on their faces, though Harry didn't find the look quite as endearing on theirs. He could hear the beginnings of what could be a full-blown furor surrounding him.

Moody was much more practical in his concerns. The bloody idiots were wasting time, being paranoid - something they ridiculed him for! - over something even _he _knew wasn't going to happen. Lifting his wand in one gnarled hand, he let loose a shower of sparks, gaining everyone's attention. He repeated the action until everyone had gotten silent again.

"Good." He said in his customary barking shout, "Now, if you're all over your irrational fears, I'd like to hear some more." He sat back down after one last glare, with a nod at Harry, who gratefully returned it.

"Thank you, sir. Well, Headmaster, I know the standard procedure - as standard as such a unique case can get, anyways. A Perum Presidium ward on the child, reinforced periodically, until a professional Medi-witch or wizard declares it's safe to remove. What would be the reason that a Quixtor, an illegal ward made specifically for crazies and criminals, would be used instead?" Harry questioned, seemingly politely. His cocked eyebrow, however, showed just enough contempt to be noticeable, but not enough to really comment on.

Dumbledore was silent, reevaluating Harry Potter. It was obvious the boy knew more than he was letting on, but, behind the obvious subterfuge seemed to be another one. He also seemed to know more than he seemed to know, or something. Dumbledore's head was starting to hurt. He almost rubbed his temples, before he realized how that would look.

"Well, Harry, like you said; the case is anything _but _standard. Some people would think it obvious that standard procedures would be ineffective. If the victim's magic levels were fluctuating, for example, a simple Perum Presidium ward might be broken. The Quixtor, though, is the most effective magic stabilizer currently known to the Wizarding World. One could have, perhaps, decided it better to limit magic growth and have it stabilized, than have it unlimited and chaotic."

Harry leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on the table. His arms were crossed, and his head was down, obviously in deep thought. Dumbledore was making it sound like a reasonable use of such an illegal and inhibiting magic. And Harry knew he wasn't infallible... he knew that very well. Something seemed... off, though. 'Even if it turns out he's in the right, though, it will do him some good to have to explain things for once. He's much too good at manipulating people.' He decided to try one more thing.

"Surely there's a way to strengthen a safer ward? Perhaps... using _someone else's_ magic?" Harry questioned carefully, hoping he was right in this theory at least. Looking at Dumbledore, he was pretty sure he was.

Dumbledore stiffened. He felt cold, suddenly. 'That can't be what it sounds like. If it is, then my task has become much, much more difficult.' It was time for one last roll of the dice.

"Perhaps, Harry," Dumbledore began, adopting the grandfatherly tone he had always used with Harry previously, "But one who truly cared for this child would have never left his fate to chance. He would be certain the child was safe."

Harry tensed up, his eyes glittering dangerously. 'He still thinks he can pull that off? I thought he was good at what he did...'

By now, everyone but the slowest could tell what was going on. They had been watching the duel of words attentively, and everyone could tell Dumbledore had made a mistake with that last pass. They all expected Harry to explode at any second, and start ranting about how unfair it was for him to say that and how he and Sirius had been locked away for months... so they were all surprised when he visibly struggled to calm himself. And finally succeeded.

"I see... loved him too much to take risks, did he?" At Dumbledore's sagely nod, Harry stood up slowly, and put his fists on the table, leaning forward, inches from Dumbledore's face. Everyone in the kitchen waited for what was coming, hardly breathing for fear of missing even a second of the dazzling display of verbal attacks. Tonks and Fleur both inconspicuously drew their wands, preparing for the worst. A number of the others did, too. Most of the others didn't know who to side with if it came to that, though. The two women did. His tone when he continued had everyone gripping their wands even tighter.

"If he loved him so much," Harry spat out, as though the words pained him to say, "Then why, exactly, did he form an illegal ward, using the power of an Unforgivable Dark curse, cast by the most powerful Dark Lord in recent history!" Harry had started out quietly, almost whispering, but even his self control was limited. He ended up shouting in the man's face. Had Harry been calm enough to care, he would have seen that Dumbledore was trembling and looking unbearably sad. He also might have noticed the effect his words had on the Order.

Fred and George each had a hand on one of Lupin's shoulders preventing him from doing anything other than glare at the Headmaster. They were both fingering their wands and sending him nasty looks, themselves. Kingsley looked like he was trying to think of same way to maintain order, but not having very much luck. Most of the others were babbling incessantly, like this was just one more thing to gossip about. Most of them weren't even thinking of the repercussions on what had just happened. Harry couldn't help but think, 'Maybe they're just so used to Dumbledore doing wildly inappropriate and dangerous things that it doesn't matter anymore.'

Tonks had jumped up, ready to hex the Headmaster. Fleur had just been fast enough to grab her arm, and point it down, before the first spell had been fired.

"I want to see how he handles this." Fleur said simply, in response to Tonks' glare. Tonks grimaced, and only nodded reluctantly.

Moody was the only one who was still in sitting, thinking quietly, but furiously. 'Rough Analysis at this point; Dumbledore cast an illegal ward on Potter when he was a child. His reasoning was sufficient to excuse that part. But, if Potter is correct, then he used Dark magic to fuel it, which made the condition even worse than it would have been, had it never been treated. I need to hear the rest, but they're doing it again, dammit.' Moody calmly pointed his wand at the cold tile floor of the kitchen, and muttered "Contremisco."

The Quaking Curse rippled through the room, knocking over all of the living occupants, but leaving the table, chairs, and everything else in the same position they had been. Before anyone could recover enough to start complaining, Moody spoke. "I've had enough of you two dancing around the situation. Albus," He started, looking to the man, "Why in the name of Merlin did you use He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's magic to power a ward you placed on Potter?" Harry had decided to hear the man out, first, and kick him in the face second.

Dumbledore sighed. No one could tell, but it was in relief, strangely enough. 'He only knows a part of it. The less important part. I can still save this.' He grew pensive, ordering his thoughts.

Harry waited patiently for about 3 minutes. Then he started to get antsy. He was just about to shake the old man into action, when he began talking. "I must insist no one interrupt me after I begin. All your questions will be answered, in due time." At the small nods and affirmitave gestures he got, he continued. "The ward in question was not cast the night Voldemort was defeated the first time. It was more important to get you to your aunt's house, Harry. That was when I got the idea, though. The protection granted to you by your mother was more than sufficient to protect you from the influence of foreign magic on your person - why not have it protect you from the influence of foreign magic on your mind? That was part of my thinking anyways. I will admit, it seemed appropriate for you have the last lingering part of your mother always there, shielding you from evil. So I returned a week later, and used an ancient ritual called the "Certamen Vox", which roughly translates to "Combined Magic". My intent was to combine my Quixtor ward with Lily Potter's Cruor Contego spell." Dumbledore sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment, eyes shut tightly.

"I didn't recognize my mistake until later - years later. Not until Madam Pomfrey first treated you at Hogwarts, actually. She had gotten some peculiar readings from you, and she wanted to discuss the anomalies with me. I was horrified with what I saw. For weeks after that, I subtly checked my ward at every chance I got... and it was always the same. I... I cannot describe the depths of my sorrow." Indeed, Dumbledore looked like he might cry. That just made Harry even more irritated at the man. "I'm not sure what I did wrong, even to this day. I worded the ritual to specifically target my and your mother's spells. I suppose I underestimated the strength of the Killing Curse, for it seemed my ward had combined with it instead. At this point, lifting the ward would have been impossible. The Killing Curse is powerful Dark Magic - combine that with two other powerful magics, all three feeding each other, and... I am strong. But such a task is beyond even me. I am truly sorry, Harry." By this point, everyone else had resigned themselves to sitting on the sidelines, staying silent.

Harry found his anger draining away, slightly. It was being replaced by a deep irritation. It was hard to rage at a man who had done what he thought was best, in a bad situation. Being annoyed with him, however, was surprisingly easy. He had been so sure Dumbledore had just been trying to keep him in line. "How do I know this is the truth?" Harry demanded - he wasn't about to take Dumbledore's words as the absolute truth. Not anymore.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, swear by my native-born magic, to you, Harry James Potter, on punishment of Veneficus Damnum, that I spoke no falsehood." The magic rippled around the two, showing a pact had been made. Dumbledore quietly cast a spell, showing that his magic was still intact. Mentally, he was reveling in his victory. Harry grudgingly nodded, accepting the validity of the Headmaster's story.

'That was too close. Much too close. Now, to find out what happened to him.' He said mentally. Out loud what came out was, "I must admit, Harry, I am curious. How did you break the ward? And are their any side effects of destroying magic that was so close to your magical core for so long?" He kept his tone purely curious - he knew a suspicious tone would have gotten Harry to close himself off. What he didn't know was, Harry had already decided not to be entirely truthful.

'That oath has to have loopholes in it. It means nothing, really. He does seem to be sincere about being sorry... the question is, for what? Until I know, I'll have to try to keep him unbalanced.' He planned out what to do.

"If I answer your question, will you answer another one of mine?"

"Of course, Harry." Dumbledore was mentally replaying the events that had happened since he had come to Privet Drive, searching for something Harry might ask.

"It's hard to explain, but I'll try. Initially, I was Occluding myself..." Dumbledore cut him off.

"Where did you learn to do that?" He knew, as soon as he said it, he had made a blunder. His tone had been too sharp, and Harry's eyes had narrowed, almost imperceptibly. His overall demeanor became less tense, though. That was what had really told Dumbledore he had made a misstep.

'Knew he didn't want me to learn Occlumency correctly. But why not?' Harry stored the information away for later. "I taught myself. Some methods of muggle meditation have a lot in common with Occlumency, you know. Even I was surprised by how fast I picked it up, though." He said, cheerfully. "Anyways, while I was Occluding my mind, I finally realized that that cage - it was the ward, I found out - wasn't supposed to be there. Rather obvious, looking back at it. But, I just wanted to tear the cage down... so I did. It was hard, and I think I came close to hurting myself seriously," This was all true enough. Except he now knew it was the remains of the Killing Curse that had been so terrifying. "After that initial burst of magic, though, nothing seems different. I'm a little stronger, of course, but that's it." He lied smoothly. Not waiting for a response, he asked his question. "The funny thing is, the ward was already breaking, by the time I got to it - why is that?" He heard surprised muttering from the Order, the first time they had made any noise for a couple minutes, at least. Even Dumbledore looked faintly surprised by this news.

"It was breaking _before_ you started trying to unravel it?" Harry nodded. "I'm not exactly sure why that is. I could make some guesses, perhaps?" He looked for permission and, after receiving another nod, continued. "I've been wondering whether something like this would happen for a while, but there's no precedent or any actual proof, so I didn't bother you with it." Harry almost snorted in amusement. He knew that he wouldn't have been told, either way. "Your magic has always been different, Harry. Special. But you seemed completely ordinary until the night you survived a Killing Curse, and received your scar. Since then, the power of your magic has been quite erratic. Even with such a powerful ward on you, you were capable of almost superhuman feats. You don't think most people would have survived Basilisk poison, do you? Most people would die long before Phoenix Tears could save them. Or casting an Engorgement Charm wandlessly at 13? A Patronus, only months later? Using enough raw magic to push Voldemort's back at age 14? And then, pushing him out of your mind at 15? Tom has been using his powers for years. He's used rituals to increase them. You were being contained."

"But that doesn't explain _why _all that's happened, Professor. It just raises more questions, really."

"_Think_, Harry - when did your magic show how powerful it truly was?" Harry started thinking hard, but Albus answered his own question. "I believe it showed itself when the prophecy could be affected. Without saying too much," He cast a glance at the Order, "Think of when it showed, Harry."

And Harry was. The last two were obvious, and he could understand the Basilisk - it was sent by an incarnation of Voldemort. He couldn't quite figure out how the magic he used in his third year was connected to the Prophecy, though. He voiced his confusion. "Third Year?"

"Yes. That one is more subtle than the others. Remember, I'm not completely sure about this, and I could be wrong, but I believe that you don't have to be directly affected by what triggers your magic - the fact that Sirius was released and looking for Peter, who eventually brought Voldemort back, was enough to set it off. Or perhaps the effect the Dementors had on your mind, bringing back memories of an event that is clearly vital to the prophecy, caused your magic to react." There was a pause, while both men mulled over the information they had. "Or, perhaps, your magic is just strong enough to be partially unaffected by even such powerful magic. Anything is possible, I suppose."

"If it's the prophecy, why doesn't it help Voldemort, too? And why would the prophecy change my magic, anyways?" Harry thought the idea was ridiculous, himself. Voldemort would still be better off, if the prophecy was the sole reason.

Dumbledore spread his arms, and shrugged slightly. "That is the part that makes this all completely guess-work. There is no proof of this, but I think that _something _had to help you survive the Killing Curse. Even with your mother's blood shield, you should have been killed. But you weren't. I think that's because something granted you the power to fulfill the prophecy. What? I do not know. I call it prophecy magic. As for the other part; I told you, it's just a theory. Maybe your magic is less resistant to change, because of the events on that Halloween. Or perhaps the rituals Voldemort enacted cause the prophecy magic to be less effective for him. I do know he and his magic are still recovering from being reborn in a new shell, so the chances are he will get more powerful, before this is through."

Harry thought about that. If this 'prophecy magic' stuff was real, and it happened to him when he was young, then it would make sense that he would get more power than Voldemort. Except Voldemort had been reborn, so he should have seen an increase, too. 'There's a lot of things wrong with Dumbledore's theory, but it could be close to right. Right now, I need time to think this crap over, without interruptions.' The Order and Dumbledore were thinking along similar veins, though most didn't find it quite so important.

Harry stood, causing everyone to turn their attention from their conversations - the subjects ranged from how powerful Harry was, to how he got so hot. Dumbledore stood seconds after, drawing their attention to him.

"I need to think about this. Alone."

"I understand, Harry, but you destroyed the Cruor Contego spell, when you destroyed the Quixtor ward. We need to get you to sa-" Harry cut him off.

"You're under the false impression that I'm okay with what you did." He said coldly. "I understand it was accidental, and nothing truly bad came of it. But you still cast two powerful, permanent magics on an infant, without consulting any Healers, and your incompetence caused the effects to be even more potentially harmful. That's disgusting. _If_ you want to discuss this further," He looked at the wall clock. It was 1:45 in the morning. "We can talk around 10:00 tonight. Remus," he turned to the man. "You and anyone who you deem worthy," he flicked his eyes to the twins to show him what he meant, "can come here at 6:00. We should talk."

He walked part way to the stairs, before he remembered the way Tonks and Fleur had been acting earlier. He turned to the spot where they were still standing - everyone else was filing out. He could tell they were trying to figure out a way to talk to him. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, he really needed to be alone. "I'll see you two at six." And with that, he turned back to the stairs and strode up to 'his' room.

Fleur looked to Tonks, who seemed ready to go upstairs and talk to Harry, anyways. "We should go."

"But..."

"He did say six. It means he trusts us." Fleur added, hoping to lift up Tonks' spirits. It didn't work, so she tried a different way. She leaned over slightly, "That gives us almost 17 hours to... get ready." Her voice was sultry, laced with promises. That seemed to work. Tonks brightened considerably.

"That's right!" Tonks started, but thought of something, "But Remus'll be there too..."

"So we wait for Harry to be finished with him. And Dumbledore, I suppose."

"But that's four more hours. I don't know if I can wait that long." Tonks whined playfully, obviously just teasing at this point. Fleur smiled.

"Then why are we still here? Let's go find a closet." And with that, Fleur dragged Tonks away, both of them thinking of Harry Potter, and each other.

-----------

Remus was immediately accosted by the Weasley twins, Mad-Eye Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, back at Grimmauld Place. He knew they were all in Harry's camp, when it came down to it, and he was going to do everything in his power to help Harry.

"Quiet down. You're all obviously going. We still have time, though. Alastor, Kingsley, I need you two to gather materials - whatever you think is appropriate for Harry - and bring them with when we go back. Get started." They nodded and went off in separate directions, getting what they thought might help Harry. "You two," he said to Fred and George, "Find out what the hell is up with Ron and Hermione - why would they just stop talking to him?"

"We wonder that, too."

"We aren't sure, but we'll see what we can find."

"Either way, Ickle Ronniekins has a lot to answer for."

The three spent the next hour or so thinking of ways to get answers from Harry's supposed friends, and what to do when they got them.

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In the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts, Dumbledore let out another sigh of relief. Harry had never found out his true secret, though he had come close, and touched a lot of relating issues. 'I wish...' Dumbledore could feel hot tears coursing down his face.

"I'm sorry. I _am _sorry. I am." Was his mantra, repeated over and over, as he sat with his head against Fawkes' perch. The Phoenix let out a sad trill, trying to comfort his old friend, but too sad himself to achieve much.

"I know, Fawkes. I know." Hundreds of miles away, in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive, Harry still didn't, and never truly would again, trust the Headmaster. The-Boy-Who-Lived began to dissect Dumbledore's story, looking for clues and inconsistencies. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't know _what_.

**A/N:**Hope this chapter answered almost as many questions as it raised. Next chapter; Harry comes to some of his own conclusions about his power, starts to really get away from Dumbledore's influence, and maybe some explanations about his friends. I apologize if this chapter bored anyone, but it really was vital to explain some things before moving on with the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Sorry for how long this took. I have about 5 drafts of this chapter, total, and it still didn't turn out quite how I wanted. And it's not even an especially long chapter! But, I figured if I didn't get it after 5 tries, I'd have to settle. So I did.

**Chapter 4**

It was unleashed, now. Free. And it had work to do. Some would see what it was doing as wrong - that such subtle compulsions, while not nearly as bad as mind control, are still desecrations of that free will people seem to hold in such high regard. It would neither agree nor disagree. Right and wrong were abstract concepts to it, incomprehensible, and therefore, unnecessary. In reality, it didn't even know what it was doing. It was merely doing what it thought would help it's host. And so, it did.

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It was 2:00 in the afternoon and Tonks and Fleur were bored. They had nothing to do until 6:00, so they did what they usually did when they were bored - they talked about Harry.

"What do you think of this new Harry, Fleur?"

"Well, I definitely prefer the way he handled Dumbledore this time. Breaking his things was so childish."

"Yeah. But it was understandable, you have to admit."

"Yes. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what to make of this 'new' Harry. I don't care much about whatever happened to his powers - but he changed in another way, too."

"I know what you mean. I'm pretty sure I like it, though. Except for just _dismissing _us like that - he's going to pay for that one." They lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

Fleur was trying to figure the new Harry out. She felt the same for him, still, except now he was more intimidating and attractive, at the same time. And now, she knew they couldn't just jump him - they'd have to take it slower. Harry wouldn't trust their motives if she and Tonks just started snogging him all of a sudden.

Tonks was thinking the same way. It a way, it saddened her, to have to wait even longer to be with Harry. But she was also happy. She figured the chances of the relationship working were probably better if they didn't just rush into it. But still…

"Hey, Fleur?" Fleur was shaken out of her thoughts by Tonks' voice.

"Yes, Tonks?"

"Do you have any idea how we're going to tell Harry how we feel about him without making him suspicious of us? I prefer it not be awkward, but I'll do pretty much anything, if it'll help."

Fleur frowned prettily, obviously thinking. Tonks waited a few seconds before talking. "Well?"

"We could always tell him the truth, you know." Tonks sighed dramatically.

"If you say so…"

-----------

About the same time, Remus was trying to get some answers for Harry. He hoped the twins had some explanations - he himself was curious. Why had Harry's friends cut him off, all of a sudden? It didn't make sense, from what he knew.

"What did you find?" He was understandably annoyed with the response he got.

"Not much."

"Ron kept insisting Dumbledore told him not to."

"Hermione was a bit more slick. Implied Ron was sending all the letters she was writing to Harry, every couple days."

"Trying to throw us off, we s'pose."

"It was pretty obvious she was lying, though. We have no idea who started it, or if they decided jointly to ignore Harry, though."

"Don't even know _why _they did this, to be honest." Remus sighed. He didn't know what to do about this. He decided, after a little thinking, to let Harry deal with it - it was a personal problem, after all.

"Oh well. We tried." He paused as Moody and Kingsley walked in the room, carrying a trunk between them.

"Got all he'll need in here." Kingsley's deep voice explained.

"For now, anyways. He's going to need more before this is over, I'd say." Moody amended. Remus nodded.

"Right. Anyways, we have to talk. Harry didn't tell us the whole truth. But what was he hiding? And is he going to let us in on it, or is he hiding it from _everyone_, not just Dumbledore?"

"I'd say we're getting the partial story, at least." Moody mulled it over for a while. "Yeah, the lad's got something up his sleeve. He's probably going to get us to help him with it. As long as it helps in the fight, I'm willing." The rest nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. What, though, was he going to do? The group pondered it, not knowing exactly what to expect.

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Harry squinted. He was facing a light so bright, telling it's color would be impossible - it didn't have one. It wasn't white, either, though… it was just… all-consuming. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. After what seemed like an eternity of staring at the light, Harry began to recognize shapes, moving to and fro in it. Then it was gone.

He looked at his surroundings and was immediately filled with shock, loathing, and disgust; he was in his cupboard, and looked how he had when he was four. Something was strange, though. Harry could feel something foreign, but at the same time, all-too-familiar. His eyes widened when he realized that he could feel what the _cupboard _was feeling. It hated him, almost as much as he hated it, but, from this hatred, they had formed a bond. It was a hatred born of forced coexistence, not one of actual dislike.

He rose, a look of fierce determination etched onto every line of his face. But he had forgotten he was four, and how malnourished he had been at that age. He toppled over, his shaky legs not able to bear his weight so suddenly. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he saw under the door, the light once again. This time, one of the shadows was clear, though the rest were still nearly impossible to see. It was his own face, staring intently at him. It stretched out from the light, slowly, drawn to him. They touched, their scars meeting, and neither was sure who had been Harry and who had been the shadow that looked like him. But they both heard a voice echoing in their head, without words, but clearly comforting, trying to hold back the troubles of the outside world. Dimly, Harry could hear Dudley, whining about something, before he was whisked away, back to the light.

-----------

Harry woke with a start, sweat dripping down his face in sheets. He wasn't sure if it was the heat or the dream. Either way, he needed to calm down. Reaching in to his newly found knowledge of spells, he began going over them in his head, cementing their place in his mind. His thoughts, though, drifted to last night, when he was alone, and how he had discovered how to effectively use what he had learned.

_Harry was lying in bed, having given up trying to dissemble what Dumbledore had said. It was too complicated for him, at the moment. Reaching for a book, and opening it to a random page, he resolved to read himself to sleep. _

_The fates were against him, it seemed, as he was extremely interested in the reading - one of the later chapters of **Enchanted, I'm Sure**. Enchantments were a branch of Charms that weren't covered until 7th year, normally. It differed from normal Charms in several ways. Normal Charms usually only affected an object for the space of a nanosecond, or less - they exerted enough magic to send something flying, or summon something, and then they stopped. There were some borderline Enchantments, like the Cheering Charm, which technically only exerted magic for a short period of time, but had lasting effects, or the Fidelius Charm, which had long lasting effects, but only exerted magic in short spurts, when necessary to keep a place secret, but real Enchantments exerted their magic for a long time, depending on the caster's magical strength._

_Wards were the most common form of Enchantments, and were usually used to teach beginners. Another beginners Enchantment was what caused brooms to fly. The chapter Harry was currently on was mostly about how the effects of Rituals and Enchantments differed. Harry was confused, but not about the text - he understood the author perfectly. That confused the hell out of him. A second ago, he hadn't known anything about the subject. Then it clicked - this was how to utilize the knowledge he had magically gained. He had tried to think of some spells earlier, but it had been fuzzy, and recalling them was nearly impossible. With a slow smile, Harry went back to reading avidly._

That same slow smile appeared on his face again. He had spent longer than he intended last night (or this morning, whatever you wanted to call it) reading before he went to sleep. He was annoyed when he couldn't recall perfectly every spell he had "relearned" last night, but for the most part, he was satisfied with what he knew.He glanced at the clock, and saw it was already 5:20.

"Not as much time as I wanted to get ready, but that's what I get for reading too much…" Harry paused when he heard what came out of his own mouth, before laughing. "Okay, that is something I _never _wanted to hear myself say." He continued chuckling to himself for a while, thinking about how fucked up his life was - disregarding everything except the fact that he was 16, and he had stayed up to late, reading what was essentially school books. He was rudely shaken out of his thoughts by two pops, and tentative knock on his door.

He narrowed his eyes. "I told you, Dumbledore, ten! What part of-" He wrenched the door open and stopped, mid-rant. Tonks and Fleur were standing there, looking down meekly. Now, Harry knew they wanted something. He was working frantically to establish _what _it was exactly, but he masked his agitation, with some effort. "Oh… Sorry about that. I suppose you want to come in?" They both flashed him bright smiles, and Harry backed away, opening the door fully to let them in. He sat on his bed, and looked at them. They just stood there for a while, before he decided to get them talking.

"Right. Spill. What do you two want?" He reached for his wand, careful not to draw attention to the act.

Fleur looked at Tonks. She could see that the Metamoph was too flustered to answer at the moment, so she took a steadying breath, and started herself. "How much do you know about Veela, Harry?"

"I know you're trying to use your Veela charm on me right now, and I don't appreciate it." He stated wryly, his lips curling into a grin. Fleur smiled at that, too.

"That's one thing - I can't control it. I certainly wouldn't use it so much if I could. But that's not exactly the direction I want to go. Veela are loosely related to Nymphs, where Nymphs desire all men, and have no thought processes beyond carnal desires, Veela desire certain qualities in their men, and are quite normal in most other ways. What allowed us to survive where Nymphs went extinct was how picky we are about males. We don't know the exact qualities Veela desire in men - they're too numerous to define exactly - but one of the most important is power. Others are compassion and protectiveness." Harry quirked an eyebrow. He could tell from how she said it, it was probably taken from a textbook. That's when Tonks began speaking.

Tonks relaxed when Fleur had said her part. All she had to do was mimic it, but for Metamorphs. "Harry… Metamorphmagi are an anomaly. We're more united with our magic than normal witches and wizards, like magical creatures are. I… I can't describe it to you. Magic, my magic anyways, has its own urges, its own desires, but at the same time, they're just an extension of mine. One thing I can explain is how I Morph. I'm a female, as you can tell." She winked, and Harry rolled his eyes, though he felt a smile force its way on to his face, "That means, as a Metamorph, I can tell exactly what men want in a woman, and I instinctively Morph to it. That was the hardest part of training - when every man around you is accidentally sending you signals as to what he wants you to be, and when you automatically try to be it… It was hard." Tonks exchanged a look with Fleur, pleading with her eyes for Fleur to take over once again.

Harry, for his part, was just confused. He didn't even want to try and hazard guesses about what they wanted. He figured they'd get to that at their own speed.

"You're very powerful, Harry." Fleur blurted out. She cringed. 'That was not exactly how I wanted it to be.' She hastened to correct herself. "What I mean is… "

"Just tell me what you want!" Harry snapped, not exactly liking where this was going. He didn't need this right now. Fleur sighed. 'Nothing left to lose.' Tonks eyed her carefully.

"I want you." She said simply. Harry stiffened. He decided to throw out logic, and just go on instinct. He was seething.

"So…" He started slowly, his voice shaking from anger, or sorrow, or some other unnamed emotion, "You decided that the all mighty Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the world was worth a shag, did you?" Fleur felt her own temper rise.

"No! Didn't you listen to what I was saying? I don't know how to word what Veela look for in men - all I know is I found all of them in you."

"Don't emotions play a part in this? Or do I fit all the criteria? You use a check-list, or do you have graphs?" He snapped back bitingly. Fleur let out a string of curses in French, or at least Harry assumed that's what they were.

"Those _are _my emotions." She said, visibly calming herself down. "I already told you, there isn't a list. I only even mentioned Veela because I knew you wouldn't believe how I felt otherwise. This didn't seem to work, either." She looked dangerously close to tears, of anger or sadness, Harry didn't know. He didn't seem to know much, these days. He did know he was sorry, though.

"Look… I'm sorry. But how am I supposed to react? You… you could have picked a better time to tell me, you know?" He said weakly. Fleur nodded, but didn't try to tell him he was forgiven, or that she was sorry. Harry looked at Tonks, most of his ire gone. "I assume you have something similar to say?"

"Yep!" Tonks chirped way too cheerfully. "You're the only man whose never broadcast any image of me. At all. What me and my magic get from you isn't that defined it's more a feeling I can't describe. But I like it!" Harry tried to glower and failed. He was too drained. He thought about it. 'Two gorgeous women want me. Or they think they do. It seems to me like their magic wants an idealized illusion of me.' He was really confused, now. His whole world was in a state of turmoil that wasn't life-threatening, just taxing, and distracting. He had a few options, that he could think of off the top of his head. He could reject them outright, which would hurt them now, but probably be best in the long run, or he could tell them he was willing to give them a try. When they found out how wrong they were, and how they didn't really like him, they would leave, and no one would be hurt. Or they could all live happily ever after. Or they could be abducted by aliens. 'What was that thing about Occam's Razor?' Harry rubbed his forehead, thinking furiously. He almost cried with happiness when he heard pops, and a surprised sound.

"Tonks, Fleur, you're already here!" Remus exclaimed, internally wondering why they were. But he pushed it aside, for now. Harry seemed to be fine, if a little worried. Remus was concerned, but they both had other things to worry about. So he pushed his concern aside. "We're all here, Harry."

Harry looked. Behind Remus was the Weasley twins, Kingsley, and Moody. Harry didn't know if he should have expected more or not. "This all?"

"Well, you didn't really give me a whole lot of time to find people I was sure would be loyal. This is all you get for now." Remus stated, somewhat dryly. Harry laughed.

"Good point, Moony. Anyways, I guess you guys know I didn't tell Dumbledore everything?"

"We assumed as much." Remus admitted. Harry smiled slightly.

"Good. The Quixtor Ward being broken did have some side effects." He hurried to explain when their faces took on concerned looks. "Nothing bad, I don't think. Just… odd."

"Odd how?" Either Fred or George - Harry couldn't tell - asked.

"Well, I can remembered things. A lot of things." The other twin snorted.

"Real strange, mate."

"Quiet you. I mean, I can remember magic I know for a fact I never learned. Really advanced."

"How advanced?" Kingsley this time. Harry sighed.

"That's the thing; I'm not completely sure. All the memories are hazy and jumbled, until I relearn them. I can remember what I know in general terms - like, I know I can't Channel - but specifics are harder. When I relearn something, though, I remember it, mostly."

"Good." Moody opened the Trunk he and Kingsley had been carrying, and dug in it for a moment, before tossing Harry a few books. "Those are hard to find. Written by Aurors for Aurors. There's some other stuff in here," he motioned to the trunk, "But those are the really important reads." Remus nodded.

"Anything else you need, Harry? Or was that it?"

"Yeah, actually. I'm not going to stay here all summer. And I'm not going to just sit idle until I'm allowed to cast spells in September. I'm going to need you guys to teach my whatever I don't know. Soon." Remus was silent for a moment, before he bent to look in the trunk they'd brought. He took out a plain wooden box, with the letters SB in bold, black letters. He handed it over to Harry, who took it, before he began talking in a quiet voice.

"That first one is taken care of, I think. Sirius gave you Number 12. You can check - everything he left to you is in there."

"This is it?" Harry exclaimed. He blanched when he realized how that sounded. "I didn't mean-" He was cutoff by a slightly bitter laugh.

"I know, Harry, I know. To be honest, it's more than it looks, but honestly - how much can an escaped convict really give you?" Not knowing how to respond, Harry just opened the box. It was packed with a mass of papers, with a letter addressed to Harry on the top. He reached for it, tentatively.

_Harry,_

_If you're reading this, I'm dead. Which sucks, because as I'm writing this, you aren't quite a 5th year yet, and with the way we seem to attract trouble, I doubt I wouldn't update this regularly, so I died a lot earlier than I intended. Hopefully, I died fighting, though I can think of several other ways to die that wouldn't be completely horrible. Most of them completely inappropriate._

_I'm sorry I can't leave you much, but you're pretty loaded as it is, if what Molly told me is true. Some of the stuff here will probably help, though. The most important is, I'm giving you Grimmauld Place. If it's safe enough for the Order, it should be safe enough for you. There's some other documents in this box you should look over, but they're mostly self-explanatory, so I'll leave them to you._

_Look. I'm not exactly good with words. I'm sure you can relate. I'm sorry if you were expecting a novel full of personal philosophies and tidbits of wisdom, but I don't have any of either that would apply to you. I'd tell you to lighten up, but you have a damn good reason for being a moody bastard. I'd tell you to do what you want, not what others do, but that's how I landed myself in Azkaban. So I'll just tell you I love you, and I regret not being there (in the past and in the future)_

_For the last time,_

_Snuffles_

Harry could feel mixed feeling of sorrow and guilt rise up in him, threatening to be released in the form of tears. He quashed them both, ruthlessly, relying on years of training from the Dursleys. The guilt was because Sirius had bought Harry's freedom with his life. The sorrow because Harry felt like he loved the _idea _of Sirius more than he loved the man. Which isn't to say he didn't love Sirius - he did. It's just, the loss of his last possible chance for a family had hit Harry harder than the loss of his good, and his dad's best, friend.

Remus saw the emotions pass over Harry's face, before he blanked them out, and sighed. He didn't think it was healthy to do that. But then, isn't that what he himself did every waking moment? Keeping himself especially restrained, for fear someone would discover the fury that lurked far beneath the surface. Or not so far, depending on what phase the moon was in. Who was he to judge? Hypocrisy wasn't in him, despite what else was, so he didn't comment.

Harry wanted to move on, so he reached into the box, under the letter and pulled out a few scrapped of old parchment. One was completely mustard yellow, while the other was lighter, but with burn marks along one edge. The first one said something about a place called **The Pariah's Paradise**, the burned one mentioned a few places, the most prominent being **The Opulent Beggar**. Both of these names meant absolutely nothing to Harry, so he started reading.

Pariah's Paradise, apparently, was a shop Sirius had funded before he was sent to Azkaban. In exchange, the shop owner had agreed to let Sirius get anything he wanted free. With a rare touch of foresight, Sirius had worded it so the holder of this piece of paper got the discount, as opposed to just him.

The other paper was more vague. Sirius had done something - it didn't say what - for the owner of the Beggar (which turned out to be an inn of sorts). Nothing specific was outlined, but it looked as though the owner had pledged a transferable Oath to Sirius, which Sirius had decided to pass on to Harry. It only required three drops of blood on specified locations of the parchment. Harry decided to do it later. He searched for the deed, or something, to Grimmauld Place, but it wasn't there.

"Hey, Remus?" Remus, who had been off to a side of the room with everyone else there, discussing various training exercises (the twins were currently outlining plans for different training devices, with Moody and Kingsley grunting in approval every once in a while), turned to Harry.

"Hm?"

"I can't find anything that tells me I own Number 12, except… his letter."

"Oh! That's because we're supposed to be co-owners. I have the contract here somewhere…" Remus started digging through the pockets of his tattered robe. After a while, he snapped his fingers and looked in his shoe. Harry looked at him strangely. "My pockets could have a hole in them." He said in way of explanation, stressing the word 'my' slightly. "Anyways, here it is." He placed it on Harry's desk.

"What do we have to do."

"It's simple. See these places?" Remus tapped his wand to each of the three lines for emphasis. "We each place one drop on each, in reverse order. You start with that one, I start with this one?" At Harry's nod, he pulled out a pin, and pricked his finger, and handed another to Harry who imitated the action. When they had done the ritual, the parchment glowed briefly, before disappearing. Harry nodded to himself - just like the Oath Sirius had sworn to him.

"Good. I'm going to have to go to Knockturn Alley tomorrow."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I have business there, according to some of these papers. Want to come? I'm going either way, but it would be easier for everyone if you were with me." He carefully avoided saying 'someone with me' - he had tried to not think about Fleur and Tonks for the moment, but he was cautious enough to make sure he didn't unintentionally invite them along. Not that he exactly minded their company. He cut that line of thought off quickly. All lines of thought involving those two, actually. He knew they probably wanted to talk about it, but he… he didn't know what to do. He really needed to talk to Remus. Tomorrow. He was struck by an errant, random, thought. "What time is it?"

"'Round 9:00. Why?" One of the twins.

"I doubt Dumbledore is going to wait until 10:00 to show up. I'm surprised he didn't show up with you all. I doubt he'd take well to parchments giving me power over 'his' headquarters and books I probably shouldn't have lying around."

"Too right. Just dump all of this," Moody gestured at the trunk he'd brought, "Into that," he gestured to Harry's trunk. Harry nodded. He got rid of all of his old textbooks - his first and second year books did hold a sentimental value, but not enough to supercede books that might save his life. In his place he dumped books on Healing, Enchanting, and the Auror manuals Moody had given him. Harry found himself thinking about his books. Like they were representing a part of him that was now gone forever, being replaced with something else. He had a sudden urge to scream, and he had no idea where it came from. So he ignored it. He decided to put the box in his trunk as well, but he pocketed the contracts he had already gotten out. And none too soon. Just as he was finished, he heard a steady stream of pops. Dumbledore had arrived.

**A/N: **That's it for now. Hopefully, updates will become more frequent from now on, but I can't promise anything. If the way I handled the relationship this chapter annoyed anyone, don't worry - that was mostly to introduce it to Harry, so we can start to see how he's going to deal with it. There'll be more H-T-F interaction next chapter, probably, and Harry arms himself for battle (which means a Diagon Alley shopping trip, obviously, but one unusually devoid of both the stereotypical magic trunk and an 8-page paper on Harry's new clothes!)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Gah. I've been working on another story recently, when an errant idea struck my fancy. I'm sorry about the update times, but I can't seem to help it. School and all that. But, here it is. Took me long enough.

**Chapter 5**

Harry strode down Diagon Alley, side-by-side with Remus, pondering the events of last night.

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_Harry watched Dumbledore. His piercing eyes were darting back and forth, between Harry and his supporters. Harry focused completely on the sound of Dumbledore's lecture, his droning voice drowning thoughts, Occluding himself. He thought he caught the words "irresponsible" and "for your own good", but he wasn't paying attention. He was still immensely angry, and he was trying not to show it._

_He didn't even really take notice when Moody and Remus started openly arguing with Dumbledore. They seemed to be passionate about whatever they were saying, waving their arms frantically. Dumbledore responded calmly, but his eyes were getting a hard glint to them. More frantic waving. More forced calm. More frantic waving, now accompanied by reddening faces. A crack in the forced calm. It all seemed to bleed together, as Harry watched a debate go on in front of his nose, but paid only token attention._

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As Harry turned the corner, into an offshoot of Diagon Alley, not unlike Knockturn Alley, he thought of what he was told had happened. It seemed that Remus had allowed Dumbledore to continue using Grimmauld Place as HQ, in exchange for Harry's freedom. There were more stipulations, but that was the gist of it, anyways.

"We're here." Remus' announcement shook Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry looked at the shop he now knew he was partial owner of. The sign above it had on it a cowering wizard, crouching on the ground with his hands on his head. Around him was a firestorm, and he was desperately seeking a safe haven. Harry felt an irrational feeling of kinship for this painted man well up inside of him.

"I'd like to handle this alone, Moony." Seeing Remus' slightly sad look, Harry continued, "Ah, c'mon. You'll have plenty of chances to help me - more than you'll like. But, I don't want you to know more about my purchases than you have to. Part of the plan and all." Remus nodded shortly, and leaned against the outside wall of the building, keeping watch. Harry knew Remus wasn't really happy he was being so secretive, but there it was. He proceeded inside.

The rest of the building wasn't nearly as vibrant as the sign. The paint was chipping, and it was a bit dusty, but the walls were lined with books, knives, rings, statues, and a multitude of other things. He was about to examine one of the statues - it looked a bit like Buddha, but with designs all over him - when he saw a man at the counter. He had bushy white hair all around his head, like a mane. Upon closer inspection, he seemed to have amber eyes with slit pupils, like a lion's, too. The man noted the curious look he was receiving.

"I got Animalized. Got a professional to give me the traits of the animal that was most like me. Never had the patience to become Animagi, but I was always fond of lions… I understand kids don't do it so much, anymore, but it was popular when it was new." He explained, with the familiarity of someone who gets the same question a lot. "Anyways, anything I can help ya with?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Are you the owner?" He got a nod, and the normal _I-see-the-scar_ look, as well as a slightly perplexed look, as if the man were saying 'And?'. "Well… I have some Serious Doggy Treats." Harry grimaced at the stupid password Sirius had written down for him to say.

The man broke out into a sad smile. "You knew Sirius? He was a good man. Always willin' to help me, when I needed it, and sometimes when I didn't. What'd he send ya here for, though, boy?"

"One second." Harry dug through the pockets of his robe, looking for the paper. He found it, and drew it out. The paper was rumpled and yellowing, with signs of burning on one corner. He took a few steps forward and put the paper on the counter. The man took it up and looked at it curiously. Then he burst out laughing.

"What?" Harry didn't like to be laughed at. The man realized this, and tried to stifle it, but failed pretty miserably. Harry waited for him to finish before asking again. "What?"

"Just thinkin' of when I had Sirius sign this. Practically had to curse him into it. Woulda had to, if he hadn't been drinkin' so much. See," He explained, since Harry was obviously confused. "He just gave me the money to start this place, no questions asked. He flat-out refused to even considered getting any money back from me, even when he was hammered. So I promised him free stuff. Made it sound like he was gettin' women, or somethin' - he was pretty drunk at the time, remember - so he bought it. And there you have it - holder of this paper doesn't pay, here. Not that he ever used it." The man eyed Harry even more curiously than he had been.

"That helps. I have money, but it's not like I'm swimming in it, you know?" Harry said, as he began walking towards the statue he had seen earlier. When he got closer, he saw it was only modeled after Buddha - it was very different in the details. The man was fat, and in the same position, but he had only his third eye; the other two were ripped out, and bleeding. His hands only had three fingers, but he had three arms, with purple tendrils going up them, trailing off at his shoulders. All in all, he was a grotesquely impressive piece of art.

"I see you've seen Die Krüppel." The man called from the counter.

"Is that what it's called? What does it do, anyways? And who made it?"

"Well, that'd be a history lesson…"

"I have time."

"Well, then, it was made by Vlad Dracul - Ya know, Vlad the Impaler, Dracula, all that - before he became a vampire, but after he first began losing himself to what he called _Umbra Vorago_ - means somethin' like 'Shadows of the Abyss'. I got some of his journals if you want 'em. Anyways, he got some German wizard to craft it how he wanted it. Then he killed the man, did the whole head-on-a-pike thing, and used his blood to consecrate the piece. It's supposed to grant the user Arcane Sight, Aura Reading, and supposedly a touch of foresight. 'Cept the price is their _real_ sight. Vlad wasn't too hot on makin' completely benevolent things. Good news is I have his journals, somewhere, and they tell how to reverse the effects…" Harry smiled.

"If it weren't for the fact I didn't have to pay, I'd probably think you were pushing those journal just a bit too hard."

"What! Don't be ridiculous, kid. Any friend of Sirius is worth helpin' as I see it, 'cept for… you know." He started off slightly indignant, but ended up sounding sad. Harry did know, and he was glad the man still trusted Sirius enough to help those who were close to him. Harry was struck with a thought.

"I apologize, but what's your name? Any friend of Sirius is a friend of mine… 'cept for… you know." He said, mimicking him, which brought a smile to the man's face.

"Name's Frederick Wellington. Friends call me Rick, around here, though. I'll go get those journals. They're in the back. I wouldn't touch nothin' here, if I were you. This place _is_ called Pariah's Paradise for a reason. Untouchables and all." And with that the man shuffled off to the back room. The sounds of scraping and papers ruffling could be heard. Harry walked back to the counter and leaned against it.

"Hey, Rick!" He called to the other room. "If you see anything else that's interesting, or any more journals, or anything else you think I might like, could you bring them out here too, please?" He figured he

"Sure, Harry. Just give me a second." Rick's reply was muffled, like he was shouting into a box. He very likely was, actually. Harry looked around from his spot, seeing if anything caught his interest besides the statue. Behind the counter was the jewelry. He was about to stoop down to look at the rings there, when he heard the noise of foot steps coming closer. A moment later, Rick came out from the back of the store, carrying three crates - one red, one black, and one yellow - balanced precariously in his arms. He dropped them on the counter heavily.

"Not as young as I used to be." He finally huffed out, after breathing deeply for a few moments. "Anyways, this one here," he rested a hand on the red crate. "Has Vlad's journals in it. Most of his magic requires human sacrifice, mind, but they're interestin' reads, all the same. Here's the key. Some of the journals are locked." He pulled out what looked more like a 3-inch long pike and handed it to Harry, before opening the yellow crate.

"This has the most interestin' stuff, I think. This," He pulled out a stack of parchments that were extremely yellow, "Is the best informative essay on the Dark Arts I've ever seen. Called **The Path Less Traveled: Treatise on the Dark**, written by some bloke named Grey Snake." He rummaged through the crate, pulling out odds and ends, before he got to an extremely worn book with the title **Broken: Chronicles of a Lonely Hunter**.

"Dariaz Zaramais was the most famous Hunter of the early 19th century. Experts say he killed over 70 Dark Wizards durin' his time. Think his own count says it's around 120, but I haven't read this in a while. It's yours." Rick lightly brushed the cover with his fingers, before handing both the book and the parchments to Harry. "You'll take good care of this stuff I'm givin' ya, right? 'Cause these especially are favorites of mine."

"I understand. I won't disappoint you."

"Good, good." The response was distracted, as he had already opened the black crate, and was looking through it. "Now, this isn't the kind of stuff to mess with. Most of this stuff in this one is illegal, or so unknown that it isn't possible for it to be, or it would." He pulled out another two books, a handful of brown pebbles, and strange looking knife and inkwell. Rick moved to forestall Harry's questions.

"The stones are powerful mind-altering devices. They're activated with a code word. The pamphlet that comes with them tells you the different ways they can be used. Depends on which word you use. This book tells you how to truly use Runic Magic… or so it says. Rune magic is a bit dodgy, really. That's what the knife and ink is for. Permanent rune tattoos." The title was **Rún Galdur**.

"What do you mean, dodgy?"

"No one's really sure it works. It's supposed to subtly affect your life, and I figure it can't hurt to try. You're going to need every advantage you can get." Harry nodded at that; it was simply the truth. "Anyways, I only got one more book from my private stock." He fingered the other book. It was black and green, and had what looked like a real eye set into the cover. The man poked at it, and it opened.

"Oi, this is Harry. I give him permission to open you." Rick said, apparently to the book. The book turned its eye to Harry, then back to Rick, scrutinizing them. The eye closed again, and the book pulsed. "Good. It accepted you."

"Why does that book need an eye? What's it about?" Indeed, Harry was extremely curious.

"Well. You'll read about it, in the book." And with that, he handed the book to Harry. Harry looked at it, and saw the title was **Shattered Soul**. That just confused him more, but he decided to worry about it later, so he moved on.

"Is there anything in the front of the store I should be interested in?" Rick thought about that for a while, while putting the items back in the proper crates.

"Most of what I have probably wouldn't do anything a wizard as powerful as you can't do just as easily with a wand. But Die Krüppel might be worth your time, if you learn how to use it properly, and the Ring of the Snake would be ideal for someone with your… unique… talents. I'll get it, while you get the statue." Rick got a step ladder, to reach where the ring was, while Harry went to get the statue. He placed it on the counter, and Rick did the same with the ring. It looked to be gold, with fine snake designs carved all over it. There was an emerald set in it, that glowed slightly.

"I have to tell you, I'm not sure how the ring works. It's only activated by Parseltongue, so it should be okay for you to use, if you're careful." Harry shrunk the crates and the statue - making sure it looked like he was using his wand - and pocketed them, along with the ring. Rick rose an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"Thank you - I'll see you again." Rick merely nodded, so Harry left. Once he was outside, Remus immediately fell into step next to him.

"Next stop?" He inquired, curiously. He knew it was in Knockturn Alley, but not much else.

"It's called the Opulent Beggar. Ever heard of it?" The name did sound quite familiar to Remus, but he couldn't put his finger on how, and he told Harry as much.

"Ah well. We'll see it soon."

"I suppose." Remus muttered, surreptitiously drawing his wand as they entered Knockturn Alley. Its reputation was only partially exaggerated. Next to him, Harry drew his hood up so it partially covered his face, including his scar.

They made their way mostly in silence. Remus could tell Harry was trying to formulate a question by the way he kept turning towards him and then shaking his head, only to repeat the process again soon after. The werewolf made a mental note to talk to Harry about it after they were through here.

"This is the place." Harry said quietly, looking at the place. It was in better condition than many of the buildings in this particular Alley, but it was also still fairly shabby. Some of the windows were broke, there were burn marks scattered across the surface, and what Harry assumed had once been a sign was shattered into pieces, part of it still hanging. It did seem relatively clean, though. "Let's go in, shall we?" With that, Remus and Harry entered.

They were immediately assaulted by a wave of red smoke that smelled and tasted suspiciously like blood. A man in a dark cloak, with the hood up was blowing it out of his nose, his mouth firmly clamped on his pipe.

The next thing they noticed was the Veela waitress, and the fact that none of the patrons seemed to be affected by her at all. After that, Remus noticed why - none of the patrons were human. The pair off in the corner were werewolves, the man blowing smoke was a vampire - obviously - and he suspected the one at the end of the bar was part drow.

"What do you want?" The person behind the bar, the apparent owner and the only human, although his skin was a bit gray, snapped. The others looked over briefly, then went back to their own business, which meant he probably always snapped. Harry withdrew the parchment that held the Oath and discretely showed it to the man. With a quick look around, he led them to a dark corner of the room. With a quick hand signal, one of the werewolves went and sat next to the door, his nostrils widening every once and a while, like he were sniffing.

"I assume you know what this means?" The man asked, still snappishly. Harry and Remus looked at each other uncertainly.

"Er," Harry spoke, "Actually, we don't even know who you are." The man sighed.

"Right, I'm going to make this quick, then. Name's Emras. For reasons you don't need to know, I swore an Oath to Sirius, pledging to help in any way that isn't potentially lethal that I could. He told me he knew people who could use it more than he, so he asked me to sign in and make it so he could give it to them. That was around 15 years ago." Emras looked at them sharply. "I'm going to make it clear to you right now; I'm not especially fond of humans, even if I am one myself. But I said I'd help, so I will."

"I see." Harry wasn't sure how else to respond. He couldn't say he was particularly fond of a lot of the wizard populace, but he also couldn't say he was particularly unfond of them either. "What exactly could you help me with, though."

"Depends what kind of help do you need." Harry weighed his options; he could reveal his identity to this man, even though he would probably be asking him to do illegal things in the very near future. His reaction would probably depend on where he stood about Voldemort. On the one hand, he offered so-called "Magical Beasts" more freedoms than the current establishment. On the other, only a fool would believe everything Voldemort said.

He decided to reveal himself. It was probably inevitable anyways, and the possible benefits were worth the possible risk (really, the Oath would still bind him). He made sure he was angled away from the rest of the people present and pulled off his hood. The man's eyes widened in recognition slightly, before he schooled his expression.

"What do you think of… Magical Beasts, Mr. Potter?" The man said it quietly enough so no one else would hear, but it was said intensely. Harry knew a lot would probably rest on his answer. He swallowed his first response idea (They're people too) and let out a frustrated sigh. He really hadn't planned on having to debate this subject today.

"Well. Currently, two of my best friends include a free house elf named Dobby and a half-giant." Harry almost laughed when he realized it was true; his list of friends was very short. "I've met centaurs I like and centaurs I don't like. Goblins seem a bit grouchy, but I don't know any personally. Overall, I prefer to judge on a case-by-case basis… unless it happens to be a Dementor." The man studied him intently for a moment before shrugging.

"Good enough… I suppose." He finally stated. "But I repeat; it depends on what kind of help you need. Assuming you are against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Harry nodded and Emras continued, "I suppose I could begin to work on keeping the 'wolves and the vampires and the like neutral. Mind you, I don't exactly hold the ears of any of the higher ups in the Vampire Clans or anything, so I can't work miracles."

"I don't expect miracles. I didn't really expect anything at all so soon; I just came by to see what this was all about. I'm going to need connections in the very near future." Emras nodded.

"Someone comes." The werewolf at the door stated suddenly.

"I want to make sure it looks like nothing strange is going on, so I have to go back behind the bar. Remember the Oath." With that, Emras bustled off, back to work, and Harry put his hood back up and turned around.

"Let's go, Remus. We can go look at some of the stuff I bought at the Pariah." Remus perked up at that.

"Sure, Harry. I don't really like Knockturn Alley, anyways. I never knew what this place was, before, though. Might stop by some time…" He trailed off as the left the Beggar, passing two cloaked and hooded figures on their way out. Apparently, Harry wasn't the only one who prized secrecy.

"We have a lot of work to do, though. Today was an excellent start, assuming whatever you bought is as helpful as what I actually know about. Just training isn't going to beat Voldemort, you know. It's going to take-"

"I know, I know. Can't we worry about that later? At least until we're done at Diagon Alley."

"Aren't we?"

"Well, I was thinking about getting a bite-" Harry was interrupted by a very loud series of pops as they rounded the corner to Diagon Alley proper. Both Harry and Remus tensed at the sight that greeted them. A group of black garbed figures stood in the middle of Diagon Alley, in the middle of the day. The small crowds around them seemed just as stunned; the fear hadn't seemed to sink in yet because of it.

The Alley grew silent with the appearance of the Death Eaters. For a split second, everything stopped, shoppers and shopkeepers staring at the dark-robed killers, who stared right back and as one raised their wands. With the movement, the stillness was shattered, and the people moved as if to make up for it. Mothers got their children away quickly, while fathers stayed behind to fight for their safety. Store-owners, unused to doing anything more dangerous than subduing an aggressive animated book, stood shakily in their places of business, hoping to stay safe, but willing to protect themselves if they had to.

And then the spell casting began. The Death Eaters launched a barrage of multicolored lights. Some burned with purple fire, some formed into a corrosive gas that ate away the people's eyes, one even caused the fingernails of a fat, balding wizard, who had pushed his children away, to curl up his arm, ripping strips of flesh from fingertip to shoulder. The least imaginative ones, either uninterested or unaware of the art of instilling terror, merely used the Killing Curse. Some of the defenders tried to shield themselves, though it was mostly useless. Most responded, though their hexes weren't nearly as intimidating. Harry decided to act. As he moved to help, he realized Remus had already thrown himself into the fray, and was casting curse after curse.

A few well-placed Reductos had blooded the Death Eaters, but now that they were scattered along with the other combatants, they seemed to be gaining an even greater advantage. With the fighting in full-swing, Harry did little actual dueling; he went from cluster of fighters to cluster of fighters, often using tactics as simple as a Stunning Charm to the back to incapacitate Death Eaters, letting the wizards already fighting them finish it from there.

"Stupefy." He whispered, still pretending to use his wand. The chances of the Ministry identifying his wand's signature in this mess was slim, so if they didn't, nothing would be thought out of the ordinary from the people who might have seen him casting. If they did, they would have proof he had done underage magic, and he didn't feel like the headache. He saw the man he stunned fall and was about to turn to look for another group to help, when a voice made him spin around.

"Potter. Yes…" The voice sounded slightly frantic and upset, but managed to be calm at the same time, much like the speaker. He was a bit taller than Harry, his white hair long and gnarled, clumped and tangled. His eyes were narrowed and flitting back and forth frenziedly. His robes were only barely wearable, almost in tatters, and barely clung to his emaciated frame. At the same time, his stance was relaxed, almost lazy, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, wand pointing downwards. Despite his hair, he didn't look old, though he did have the look of someone who had just recovered from a serious illness.

"How embarrassing! Do we know each other? I seem to have forgotten your name, Mr…?" Harry said, the sarcasm almost hidden. He wanted to see what was going on with this Death Eater. The answer was … strange.

"Know each other? Do we now?" The man muttered in a fast voice quietly "I wouldn't say _know_… no, not know, but yes, maybe something like that, yes, Potter, yes." The man rambled, still almost whispering, taking a single step towards Harry.

"Er… right, well. I was just going to **Stupefy**!" Harry started casually, then shot his strongest Stunning Charm at the insane Death Eater, who reminded him a lot of a male Bellatrix. The spell hit him right in the chest, but instead of falling over stunned, it burst on contact with him, causing him to take a step back but nothing else.

"Stupefy? Stun, stunning me, _me_?" The man giggled, a disturbing noise, then turned serious as he seemed to realize something. "Right, right. Fighting, aren't we? I forgot, sorry." He sounded really sincere about the apology. "We can fight now."

Faster than Harry could see, his opponent whipped his wand up and, without saying a word, shot a barrage of spells at him. Harry swore he saw every color of light in the rainbow, and then some, before he hurled himself out of the way. He rolled, getting up quickly, and countered.

"Expelliarmus, Stupefy, Impedimenta!" Harry meant for his spells to be mere distractions while he came up with a plan, but it was not to be. The insane wizard merely stood there, and every spell broke, apparently on contact with him. Each time, the spell would crash back, like waves breaking on a cliff, and then they would disappear, and the wizard would giggle. Growing angry, Harry redoubled his efforts. Ducking under an errant spell, he shouted out a spell. "_Levitas_!" It was one of the simplest of the spells he had recently added to his repertoire, when he had broken the Ward. It was a magical bolt of lightning. It lanced through the air, the thunder of it's passing causing some of the other combatants to turn and see the commotion. Like the others, it didn't have the intended affect. He did stagger more than when the other spells had hit him, though, and his eyes widened for a second. Then he was back to normal, giggling away.

"Thanks, thanks for the laughs that is, here's one for you! Rictusempra!" Harry, to his horror and embarrassment, was hit by the Tickling Charm. Adding insult to… well, insult, the Death Eater giggled along with Harry's laughing.

"Tarantellegra! Densaugeo! Nunsaeta!" The mad Death Eater managed to get out between fits of laughter. Harry found himself with huge teeth, with a literal bird's nest for hair, dancing, all while laughing uncontrollably.

"Finite Incantatum." And then it all stopped. His hair and teeth were back to normal and he stopped dancing and laughing. Harry was aware, in a detached way, that it was Remus who said it, and that the sounds of dueling were gone, but he didn't really notice. His thoughts were focused on beating his opponent; none of his spells were working, and the man had made him look like a fool. As his desire for revenge reached a fevered pitch, he recalled another spell he had gotten when the Ward broke, one he hadn't remembered earlier.

"Dolens Ingero." Harry hissed from between clenched teeth. The result was wildly different from how the other spells had worked. The man rocketed backwards, flipping and twisting multiple times in the air, before hitting the ground with a thud. He got up quickly, all traces of insanity apparently gone.

"You've been learning, boy." The voice was no longer frantic or calm. It was hard and threatening, if not exactly angry. "I will flay your skin from…" He paused, looking around. He was the single remaining Death Eater; the others had been subdued, or had fled when the center of attention had been the duel between he and Harry.

"Next time." With one last, smoldering glare, he Apparated away.

**A/N: **That fight scene didn't turn out quite how I'd like. Ah well. Next chapter, Harry has to deal with the repercussions of the battle, we learn how the insane Death Eater remained unharmed, and probably some other stuff. I appreciate reviews, and I would like to continue getting them, but I'll level with you all and admit they won't make me update faster (but then, maybe they will. I dunno)


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